Deeper into black, deeper into white.
This Entry ICly for the X-Men (And Moira and Maddy) only
Ran into Sabretooth down in Hell's Kitchen. He said that 'The War' is back. We need to talk, I'll be down in the medical bay for the rest of today. Professor, I may need some memory modification done on one of my colleagues, if they can't be convinced to keep their mouth shut on their own.
OOC: Cryptic much? Well, if you were a Jean who just got stuck in a Very Bad Situation because she was too scared of the Phoenix to use it, you'd be pretty quiet too. Good, good, scene. Yeah, I know I don't do combat much, and Jean losing even less, but hey, karma comes in cycles, right?
X-Men MUCK - Friday, October 03, 2003, 2:21 PM
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< NYC > Clinton < NYC >
Clinton, or Hell's Kitchen as it is commonly known as by the locals, is definitely one of the worse neighborhoods of New York. Although crime rates have been cleaning up in this section as opposed to what they used to be, it is still not uncommon to hear the explosion of gunfire out in the alleyways at night or the occasional prostitute leaning in wait against a graffiti'd wall. The rent here is low, and only a few brownstones don't lend it a particularly homey feel. However, if you're looking for somewhere cheap and have the guts, well...Hell's Kitchen is it.
[Exits : [P]aradise [V]illa, [A]bandoned [W]arehouse, [D]ragons [D]en, and [Ch]elsea]
[Players : Creed ]
It's a cold October afternoon, with a sun grown suddenly pale and failing to do much more than take the edge out of the frost of morning, leaving it like half-defrosted meat. 'Half-defrosted meat' is a description that could be applied to a few of the denizens of Hell's Kitchen, stamping their feet and rubbing reddened hands as they queue in line around a white van with a somewhat medical emblem blazoned on the side. Not a Red Cross endeavour this, but rather the daily rounds of a program designed to get methadone out to recovering addicts, manned by a group of local doctors and pharmacists volunteering. You can practically smell the sweetness and light in the air. Unsurprising, then, that one Dr. Jean Grey is among these modern saints. With a flash of red hair peeking out between a natty hat and scarf and a neat wool jacket, she's exchanging pleasantries with one addict, a visible mutant by the looks of him, as she takes a blood sample and performs a general checkup.
Take it as a statement of scorn for his fellow man, if you wish, (or take it to mean he's still on every federal agency's wanted list) but rather than walk among his 'fellow man' Creed makes his way along rooftops. Its been too long since he came back here, the blonde predator muses to himself, in mid-leap..claws dig into tarpaper and concrete upon his landing...when something stands the big man upright, nostrils flaring: not the sea of refuse, not the dregs of the 'other' race...no this scent he remembers. A gutteral snarl escapes him as black eyes search the neighborhood. "X-Man..."
"So you haven't had any health problems besides a case of the flu last month? Good, goood." Dr. Grey continues to chat with her patient, oblivious as of yet to any unsavoury presences. Telepaths are hard to sneak up on, sure, but would -you- want to leave your brain open to recieving the sort of thoughts that are rampant in Hell's Kitchen? Especially when you look like Jean? Ergo, she's got her mental shields up high enough that a threat's going to have to be pretty close for her to catch it. Moving her stethoscope about and looking apologetic for the metal's coldness, she lowers her voice to ask "And what about any... other... health problems?" X-Factor related, apparently, since the ex-junkie glances around gawkily before lifting up the poncho he's wearing, and exposing a double line of... gills? Yup. Jean, naturally, seems unphased. "They're looking a little dried out. Got a number I can reach you at? I can probably get a distilled water spray with some glycerine in it for you..." Doctor and patient fall silent as another of the medical angels heads around the side of the van, a phone number is exchanged, along with one of those ubiquitous paper cups holding the drugs, and Jean steps back to stand with arms akimbo as she watches to make sure that her patient actually swallows the methadone instead of spitting it back out to sell later.
Creed sniffs the reeking air a few more times before pinning down the location...the van. Of course. Muttering to himself as he leaps to the ground, "Don't smell scared enough, t'be an X-Men." landing in a heavy crouch, from which he stands to stalk towards the van... "Not yet." As luck, and a hunter's instinct would have it, he approaches from the far side of the van. In fact, a few dozen heartbeats, and he'll be nearly upon one such..Ahem! Angel of the medical proffession. Good Doctor Grey's first warning might come sooner, but certainly no later than her colleague's alarm, at casually being lifted from his feet, bleeding from shallow scratches at the scruff of his neck, as one Sabretooth throws him ten feet in no particular direction, wihtout missing a step.
Insert one Classic Movie Scream of alarm here, as said colleague goes flying, which is what triggers Jean's own reflex of shoving the addict to the ground to shelter him and whirling to face... "Victor Creed. Got tired of taking money from schoolchildren, or did you come to see about getting treatments for hairballs?" Ah, the classic wit of superheros. Even if Jean's is a little lacking thanks to the 'Oh bloody -hell-' train of thought that's currently taking up most of her brainspace. Too many norms who know her, can't go Phoenix. Too many norms who know her, can't go Phoenix.
Creed has wit. Really. He just doesnt waste it when there's a monstrous hand flying at his face. Keeping his claws out of the equation (wopuld'nt want her to die too quickly now, would we?) Sabretooth takes another long stride, and moves to sieze Jean by the throat, slamming her into the van hard enough to permanently dent it, if he is successful. "No. I was hungry." he snarls, teeth bared in a vicious smile.
Come now, if one can't laugh in the face (Or hand) of death, then what -can- one laugh at? "Ulllrk." chokes Jean, her eyes flying wide open as she slams back against the van, hands grabbing ineffectually at Creed's wrist and trying to twist it so as to break herself free. Slightly dazed by the contact between skull and side impact beam, the telepath/telekine is a little slow off the mark at bringing her own offensive abilities to bear, and seems, dottily, to be thinking about trying to communicate instead. "I think..." she gasps. "You'd find me... a little too bony."
Creed leers into the Doctor's face, "Has'nt stopped some," hot breath shaking with the growl that accompanies his 'wit.' Turning away from the van, he hurls Jean with force that could displace a car, or..ruin a streetlight..or break whoever she hits...its kinda like gambling, except he can't lose. See? Wit! A bestial roar, and savage glares to either side before catching sight of the junkie with the gills. "Heh..Growin' backwards." Sabretooth stalks towards the destitute mutant, and moves to sieze him by the throat, much as he had Jean moments ago.
Jean chokes a little more, although whether it's at her restricted airway, or at Sabretooth's breath is anyone's guess. Mentos! Mentos are good! "Jealous that he's got better luck with women than you?" she guesses, tone a venomous hiss. "Could be be cause he--" Of course, just what Logan's secret is will remain forever lost as Jean suddenly goes flying completely without her own input on the matter, hat and scarf tumbling away as she rotates head over heels. But wait a minnit... didn't Creed just toss her in a straight line? It seems that survival instinct has finally won out over breeding as Jean catches herself in mid-arc and slows her fall to a gentle landing against a big pile of garbage bags, scaring away a few rats. Most sensible people would now hoof it out of the area at a run... but most sensible people aren't evil-fighting lady doctors. And that's Her Patient that dear Victor's now got his paws on. Green eyes hardening, she makes it back to the van at a run, clenching a hand as she wraps Creed's throat in a vicious telekinetic hold. "Let him go. Now." is ordered.
A derisive snarl is Creed's answer to the first, claws drawing a bit of blood through his handfull of the mutant-bum's collar. "Heh..Naw, I've got better taste than to settle fer Summers' leftovers." One bright black eye goes back towards Jean at the jab...damnit she didnt break anything! Fine, We'll fix that ourself, wont we? Right hand siezing one of the other medical volounteers who had been cowering in the van. Turning back around, trophies in each hand..he is gripped about the throat by Doctor Jean Grey, a mocking sneer begins to spread across his blunt features when he remembers: he's being gripped by the throat, by doctor JEAN GREY. *choke* Black eyes bug out at the sudden loss of breath. "-erk...Fine. Hey Red, CATCH!" the two unfortunates in Creed's hands are launched high and hard...and in two differant directions...no doubt with two differant screams. Thats more like it.
"Well, I guess when you're only getting any action in your -dreams-, you can afford to be choosy." Jean ripostes, highly unladylike, but very much a peeved redhead. A peeved redhead motioning frantically for the remaining volunteers to get the hell out of Dodge, of course. Slowly, and with eyes wide, the driver begins to oblige, since doctors are not soldiers, and MASH units are not generally contained within now-dented white vans. "Floor it, Jameson, you idiot!" she orders, reinforcing her choke-hold on Creed by way of bleeding off stress. "I'll handle this, you get clear and call the cops!" Who will, most likely, arrive just as everything is ending. And now there's a colleague and a patient arcing away, only one of whom knows her for what she is. Oh hell. Freeing Creed from her grasp, she stops the junkie cold, and focuses her attention on slowing the other doctor's fall, twenty feet out from her adversary and struggling to keep her use of powers down to a minimum. Where the heck are the Men in Black with their flashy thingies when you need 'em?
Creed snarls victoriously, "Gotcha!" Jean proceeds to get an uncomfortably close look at Creed, as the massive mutant, dropshis chin and shoulders to headbut Jean squarely in the bridge of the nose...whether or not that blow lands, Sabretooth is betting Jean can't deal with three things at once...and like the good little X-Man she is, will no doubt save others first. He swats quickly at the side of her head, going for the knockout punch. He swings like a bear, and about as strong..again, the claws are spared...He wants Logan to see her alive, after all. "Yeah, call the cops! Sabretooth wants an AUDIENCE!" *ROAR*
Good little X-Man, yes, but one of the first things a doctor learns is that you can't help anyone if you yourself are in traction. Jean anticipates Creed's headbutt just enough ahead of time to dodge a break, although not enough to avoid a fountain of blood pouring from her insulted nose, and rolls to one side to land hard on her elbow. The doctor and the junkie are given an accelerated delivery to a safe place that really defeats her purpose of not giving the game away, and the medico gives a startled "Jean... you're a...??" before deciding to shut up and nurse his wounds. Jean, meanwhile, is busy trying to dodge the incoming blow, down on the ground, but aiming one booted foot fast and true for a tender area of Sabretooth's lower anatomy. "Ungh!"
Creed howls at the kick, as much in rage as pain...after all, the good Doctor's angle isn't the best...though it's enough to bring the big man down. Unfortunately for anyone *not* named Victor Creed, he makes good use of the drop, leading with a knee to land on Jean's abdomen..hopefully driving the breath from her like a deflating baloon. Trying his best through clenched fangs, and..ahem! aching nether regions.. Creed presses the heel of his taloned hand into the side of Jean's jaw, leaning on it to press her pretty face into the ground underfoot. "Now you pissed me off, chippie." The blonde behemoth snarls.
"Now... see here!" The other doctor, showing more courage than good sense, is advancing limpingly on the scene of Sabretooth and Jean, seeing Jean down and now starting to curl into a breathless fetal position. Face abraded from being shoved against the concrete, nose still bleeding profusely, and a teke shield useless with Creed in physical contact with her, she wheezes and tries to scrabble away, twisting a little. There's a hint of fear starting to show in her eyes, but still she tries to shove away the growing insistance of the Phoenix part of her brain, either out of a fanatic determination to keep her mutant status a secret, or out of fear that she might take out innocents with the as yet untamed powers. "Fuck... you..." is managed as she tries to work past the pain in her nose and ribcage to tickle his throat with teke again.
Creed replaces the hand at Jean's jaw with a knee, so that much of the monstrous mutant's weight is bearing down directly on the telepath's skull. Now both hands are directed towards catching one of Jean's arms, and twisting it back, so that her delicate wrist is gripped in one of Sabretooth's bulky fists...the other taking one of her fingers between two of his, and *streeeeetching* it back...no break, but as far as the tendons will go, with a bit of good luck, it will break her concentration...and thus, maybe break that annoying squeeze at his throat. The newly approaching doctor is favored with a smile from nightmares. "Tell ya what, Red...since I'm feeling so sportin' today...I'll let that feeble little shit live, all you have to do..." He leans lower to lick her ear before breathing into it: "..is *scream* for me."
Jean has survived some of the best torture that a pre-empathic Sabella Miller has thrown at her, but somehow having a large, hairy bad-smelling mutant kneeing her head to the pavement isn't doing her mental state much good at all. (Which proves once and for all that Jean's not dating Logan because of some strange kink. Although -he- showers.) She will not scream. She will not scream. She will not scream. She -will- bite her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep it from happening, though. A hiss escapes her at the wrenching of her finger, and a tear escapes from teh corner of one eye to mingle with the blood streaking the lower half of her face, but she doesn't budge. Neither, in fact, does the other doctor, hovering about and looking for something he could possibly throw at the massive mutant. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she replies not with words, but with a sudden distance to her eyes as a psionic probe inserts itself none too gently in Sabretooth's pain centers, and jabs. Hard. "Turnabout... is fair play."
Creed's teeth are on fine display today...the smile on his face one belonging to the cat, that just ate the bird. "I've got a message fer yer friends..." Another of Jean's fingers is twisted. "The War is back, ya hear? From now on, if I see an 'X' on a costume, I kill the man, woman or child wearing it. *Understand*?" Another finger is bent back, the pinpricks of his claws tickling at the palm of the good Doctor's trapped hand. "Tell all of them: The Hunt is ON." Then the probe hits. Jean's wrist will not be in very good shape after the hand gripping it suddenly convulses. A roar to deafen is let loose as the psychic jab digs into his mind. Sirens. Thw tremendous weight crushing Jean into the pavement is intensified for a half-second, then lifted, as Sabretooth waits only long enough to squeeze the prone doctor's thigh for a second...Still a bastard, no matter how much pain he's in... before bounding off.
No, Jean's wrist is definitely not in a happy place at the moment... but payback, as they say, is a bitch. Shuddering at the last touch of Creed's hand on her thigh, she curls herself up into a little ball with her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking gently to try and shove away the pain as he bounds away. Finally, the other doctor actually manages to do something besides dither, and crouches down beside her, offering her a gauze square to mop her nose with, and a skittish pat on the back, as well as advice about making police statements. Jean demurs, and simply replies something along the lines of "Just get me -home-." And the pair of survivors wander away, Jean helped up to lean on a shoulder, in search of where the van went.
Ran into Sabretooth down in Hell's Kitchen. He said that 'The War' is back. We need to talk, I'll be down in the medical bay for the rest of today. Professor, I may need some memory modification done on one of my colleagues, if they can't be convinced to keep their mouth shut on their own.
OOC: Cryptic much? Well, if you were a Jean who just got stuck in a Very Bad Situation because she was too scared of the Phoenix to use it, you'd be pretty quiet too. Good, good, scene. Yeah, I know I don't do combat much, and Jean losing even less, but hey, karma comes in cycles, right?
X-Men MUCK - Friday, October 03, 2003, 2:21 PM
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< NYC > Clinton < NYC >
Clinton, or Hell's Kitchen as it is commonly known as by the locals, is definitely one of the worse neighborhoods of New York. Although crime rates have been cleaning up in this section as opposed to what they used to be, it is still not uncommon to hear the explosion of gunfire out in the alleyways at night or the occasional prostitute leaning in wait against a graffiti'd wall. The rent here is low, and only a few brownstones don't lend it a particularly homey feel. However, if you're looking for somewhere cheap and have the guts, well...Hell's Kitchen is it.
[Exits : [P]aradise [V]illa, [A]bandoned [W]arehouse, [D]ragons [D]en, and [Ch]elsea]
[Players : Creed ]
It's a cold October afternoon, with a sun grown suddenly pale and failing to do much more than take the edge out of the frost of morning, leaving it like half-defrosted meat. 'Half-defrosted meat' is a description that could be applied to a few of the denizens of Hell's Kitchen, stamping their feet and rubbing reddened hands as they queue in line around a white van with a somewhat medical emblem blazoned on the side. Not a Red Cross endeavour this, but rather the daily rounds of a program designed to get methadone out to recovering addicts, manned by a group of local doctors and pharmacists volunteering. You can practically smell the sweetness and light in the air. Unsurprising, then, that one Dr. Jean Grey is among these modern saints. With a flash of red hair peeking out between a natty hat and scarf and a neat wool jacket, she's exchanging pleasantries with one addict, a visible mutant by the looks of him, as she takes a blood sample and performs a general checkup.
Take it as a statement of scorn for his fellow man, if you wish, (or take it to mean he's still on every federal agency's wanted list) but rather than walk among his 'fellow man' Creed makes his way along rooftops. Its been too long since he came back here, the blonde predator muses to himself, in mid-leap..claws dig into tarpaper and concrete upon his landing...when something stands the big man upright, nostrils flaring: not the sea of refuse, not the dregs of the 'other' race...no this scent he remembers. A gutteral snarl escapes him as black eyes search the neighborhood. "X-Man..."
"So you haven't had any health problems besides a case of the flu last month? Good, goood." Dr. Grey continues to chat with her patient, oblivious as of yet to any unsavoury presences. Telepaths are hard to sneak up on, sure, but would -you- want to leave your brain open to recieving the sort of thoughts that are rampant in Hell's Kitchen? Especially when you look like Jean? Ergo, she's got her mental shields up high enough that a threat's going to have to be pretty close for her to catch it. Moving her stethoscope about and looking apologetic for the metal's coldness, she lowers her voice to ask "And what about any... other... health problems?" X-Factor related, apparently, since the ex-junkie glances around gawkily before lifting up the poncho he's wearing, and exposing a double line of... gills? Yup. Jean, naturally, seems unphased. "They're looking a little dried out. Got a number I can reach you at? I can probably get a distilled water spray with some glycerine in it for you..." Doctor and patient fall silent as another of the medical angels heads around the side of the van, a phone number is exchanged, along with one of those ubiquitous paper cups holding the drugs, and Jean steps back to stand with arms akimbo as she watches to make sure that her patient actually swallows the methadone instead of spitting it back out to sell later.
Creed sniffs the reeking air a few more times before pinning down the location...the van. Of course. Muttering to himself as he leaps to the ground, "Don't smell scared enough, t'be an X-Men." landing in a heavy crouch, from which he stands to stalk towards the van... "Not yet." As luck, and a hunter's instinct would have it, he approaches from the far side of the van. In fact, a few dozen heartbeats, and he'll be nearly upon one such..Ahem! Angel of the medical proffession. Good Doctor Grey's first warning might come sooner, but certainly no later than her colleague's alarm, at casually being lifted from his feet, bleeding from shallow scratches at the scruff of his neck, as one Sabretooth throws him ten feet in no particular direction, wihtout missing a step.
Insert one Classic Movie Scream of alarm here, as said colleague goes flying, which is what triggers Jean's own reflex of shoving the addict to the ground to shelter him and whirling to face... "Victor Creed. Got tired of taking money from schoolchildren, or did you come to see about getting treatments for hairballs?" Ah, the classic wit of superheros. Even if Jean's is a little lacking thanks to the 'Oh bloody -hell-' train of thought that's currently taking up most of her brainspace. Too many norms who know her, can't go Phoenix. Too many norms who know her, can't go Phoenix.
Creed has wit. Really. He just doesnt waste it when there's a monstrous hand flying at his face. Keeping his claws out of the equation (wopuld'nt want her to die too quickly now, would we?) Sabretooth takes another long stride, and moves to sieze Jean by the throat, slamming her into the van hard enough to permanently dent it, if he is successful. "No. I was hungry." he snarls, teeth bared in a vicious smile.
Come now, if one can't laugh in the face (Or hand) of death, then what -can- one laugh at? "Ulllrk." chokes Jean, her eyes flying wide open as she slams back against the van, hands grabbing ineffectually at Creed's wrist and trying to twist it so as to break herself free. Slightly dazed by the contact between skull and side impact beam, the telepath/telekine is a little slow off the mark at bringing her own offensive abilities to bear, and seems, dottily, to be thinking about trying to communicate instead. "I think..." she gasps. "You'd find me... a little too bony."
Creed leers into the Doctor's face, "Has'nt stopped some," hot breath shaking with the growl that accompanies his 'wit.' Turning away from the van, he hurls Jean with force that could displace a car, or..ruin a streetlight..or break whoever she hits...its kinda like gambling, except he can't lose. See? Wit! A bestial roar, and savage glares to either side before catching sight of the junkie with the gills. "Heh..Growin' backwards." Sabretooth stalks towards the destitute mutant, and moves to sieze him by the throat, much as he had Jean moments ago.
Jean chokes a little more, although whether it's at her restricted airway, or at Sabretooth's breath is anyone's guess. Mentos! Mentos are good! "Jealous that he's got better luck with women than you?" she guesses, tone a venomous hiss. "Could be be cause he--" Of course, just what Logan's secret is will remain forever lost as Jean suddenly goes flying completely without her own input on the matter, hat and scarf tumbling away as she rotates head over heels. But wait a minnit... didn't Creed just toss her in a straight line? It seems that survival instinct has finally won out over breeding as Jean catches herself in mid-arc and slows her fall to a gentle landing against a big pile of garbage bags, scaring away a few rats. Most sensible people would now hoof it out of the area at a run... but most sensible people aren't evil-fighting lady doctors. And that's Her Patient that dear Victor's now got his paws on. Green eyes hardening, she makes it back to the van at a run, clenching a hand as she wraps Creed's throat in a vicious telekinetic hold. "Let him go. Now." is ordered.
A derisive snarl is Creed's answer to the first, claws drawing a bit of blood through his handfull of the mutant-bum's collar. "Heh..Naw, I've got better taste than to settle fer Summers' leftovers." One bright black eye goes back towards Jean at the jab...damnit she didnt break anything! Fine, We'll fix that ourself, wont we? Right hand siezing one of the other medical volounteers who had been cowering in the van. Turning back around, trophies in each hand..he is gripped about the throat by Doctor Jean Grey, a mocking sneer begins to spread across his blunt features when he remembers: he's being gripped by the throat, by doctor JEAN GREY. *choke* Black eyes bug out at the sudden loss of breath. "-erk...Fine. Hey Red, CATCH!" the two unfortunates in Creed's hands are launched high and hard...and in two differant directions...no doubt with two differant screams. Thats more like it.
"Well, I guess when you're only getting any action in your -dreams-, you can afford to be choosy." Jean ripostes, highly unladylike, but very much a peeved redhead. A peeved redhead motioning frantically for the remaining volunteers to get the hell out of Dodge, of course. Slowly, and with eyes wide, the driver begins to oblige, since doctors are not soldiers, and MASH units are not generally contained within now-dented white vans. "Floor it, Jameson, you idiot!" she orders, reinforcing her choke-hold on Creed by way of bleeding off stress. "I'll handle this, you get clear and call the cops!" Who will, most likely, arrive just as everything is ending. And now there's a colleague and a patient arcing away, only one of whom knows her for what she is. Oh hell. Freeing Creed from her grasp, she stops the junkie cold, and focuses her attention on slowing the other doctor's fall, twenty feet out from her adversary and struggling to keep her use of powers down to a minimum. Where the heck are the Men in Black with their flashy thingies when you need 'em?
Creed snarls victoriously, "Gotcha!" Jean proceeds to get an uncomfortably close look at Creed, as the massive mutant, dropshis chin and shoulders to headbut Jean squarely in the bridge of the nose...whether or not that blow lands, Sabretooth is betting Jean can't deal with three things at once...and like the good little X-Man she is, will no doubt save others first. He swats quickly at the side of her head, going for the knockout punch. He swings like a bear, and about as strong..again, the claws are spared...He wants Logan to see her alive, after all. "Yeah, call the cops! Sabretooth wants an AUDIENCE!" *ROAR*
Good little X-Man, yes, but one of the first things a doctor learns is that you can't help anyone if you yourself are in traction. Jean anticipates Creed's headbutt just enough ahead of time to dodge a break, although not enough to avoid a fountain of blood pouring from her insulted nose, and rolls to one side to land hard on her elbow. The doctor and the junkie are given an accelerated delivery to a safe place that really defeats her purpose of not giving the game away, and the medico gives a startled "Jean... you're a...??" before deciding to shut up and nurse his wounds. Jean, meanwhile, is busy trying to dodge the incoming blow, down on the ground, but aiming one booted foot fast and true for a tender area of Sabretooth's lower anatomy. "Ungh!"
Creed howls at the kick, as much in rage as pain...after all, the good Doctor's angle isn't the best...though it's enough to bring the big man down. Unfortunately for anyone *not* named Victor Creed, he makes good use of the drop, leading with a knee to land on Jean's abdomen..hopefully driving the breath from her like a deflating baloon. Trying his best through clenched fangs, and..ahem! aching nether regions.. Creed presses the heel of his taloned hand into the side of Jean's jaw, leaning on it to press her pretty face into the ground underfoot. "Now you pissed me off, chippie." The blonde behemoth snarls.
"Now... see here!" The other doctor, showing more courage than good sense, is advancing limpingly on the scene of Sabretooth and Jean, seeing Jean down and now starting to curl into a breathless fetal position. Face abraded from being shoved against the concrete, nose still bleeding profusely, and a teke shield useless with Creed in physical contact with her, she wheezes and tries to scrabble away, twisting a little. There's a hint of fear starting to show in her eyes, but still she tries to shove away the growing insistance of the Phoenix part of her brain, either out of a fanatic determination to keep her mutant status a secret, or out of fear that she might take out innocents with the as yet untamed powers. "Fuck... you..." is managed as she tries to work past the pain in her nose and ribcage to tickle his throat with teke again.
Creed replaces the hand at Jean's jaw with a knee, so that much of the monstrous mutant's weight is bearing down directly on the telepath's skull. Now both hands are directed towards catching one of Jean's arms, and twisting it back, so that her delicate wrist is gripped in one of Sabretooth's bulky fists...the other taking one of her fingers between two of his, and *streeeeetching* it back...no break, but as far as the tendons will go, with a bit of good luck, it will break her concentration...and thus, maybe break that annoying squeeze at his throat. The newly approaching doctor is favored with a smile from nightmares. "Tell ya what, Red...since I'm feeling so sportin' today...I'll let that feeble little shit live, all you have to do..." He leans lower to lick her ear before breathing into it: "..is *scream* for me."
Jean has survived some of the best torture that a pre-empathic Sabella Miller has thrown at her, but somehow having a large, hairy bad-smelling mutant kneeing her head to the pavement isn't doing her mental state much good at all. (Which proves once and for all that Jean's not dating Logan because of some strange kink. Although -he- showers.) She will not scream. She will not scream. She will not scream. She -will- bite her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep it from happening, though. A hiss escapes her at the wrenching of her finger, and a tear escapes from teh corner of one eye to mingle with the blood streaking the lower half of her face, but she doesn't budge. Neither, in fact, does the other doctor, hovering about and looking for something he could possibly throw at the massive mutant. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she replies not with words, but with a sudden distance to her eyes as a psionic probe inserts itself none too gently in Sabretooth's pain centers, and jabs. Hard. "Turnabout... is fair play."
Creed's teeth are on fine display today...the smile on his face one belonging to the cat, that just ate the bird. "I've got a message fer yer friends..." Another of Jean's fingers is twisted. "The War is back, ya hear? From now on, if I see an 'X' on a costume, I kill the man, woman or child wearing it. *Understand*?" Another finger is bent back, the pinpricks of his claws tickling at the palm of the good Doctor's trapped hand. "Tell all of them: The Hunt is ON." Then the probe hits. Jean's wrist will not be in very good shape after the hand gripping it suddenly convulses. A roar to deafen is let loose as the psychic jab digs into his mind. Sirens. Thw tremendous weight crushing Jean into the pavement is intensified for a half-second, then lifted, as Sabretooth waits only long enough to squeeze the prone doctor's thigh for a second...Still a bastard, no matter how much pain he's in... before bounding off.
No, Jean's wrist is definitely not in a happy place at the moment... but payback, as they say, is a bitch. Shuddering at the last touch of Creed's hand on her thigh, she curls herself up into a little ball with her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking gently to try and shove away the pain as he bounds away. Finally, the other doctor actually manages to do something besides dither, and crouches down beside her, offering her a gauze square to mop her nose with, and a skittish pat on the back, as well as advice about making police statements. Jean demurs, and simply replies something along the lines of "Just get me -home-." And the pair of survivors wander away, Jean helped up to lean on a shoulder, in search of where the van went.